


the more i'm gone, the more things change

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 10:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: “I’m fine. I think. I just–” You say, your hands shaking uncontrollably now. “I’m going into shock, I think.” You try to stay calm. “I killed him. I killed the guy– he got a few swings in first.”“Jesus.” Dean mutters. “Come on.”You don’t remember much after that, except Dean’s comforting words and Sam helping to stitch up the inch long gash on your forehead. The adrenaline pumping through your body wore off quickly, and you were asleep before you could thank them, or tell them more about what happened.That was three months ago, and you’re still trying to get back into the swing of things. You feel like your life’s mission - taking out the monster that killed your family - is over, and you don’t know how to fill the void. That’s why you stick with Sam and Dean, taking on whatever Big Bad they’re after this time. You just never imagined it would be the most evil one of them all.





	the more i'm gone, the more things change

**Author's Note:**

> I could not stop laughing at how much Dean Winchester hates Los Angeles. For the record, I have never been, and think it’s probably a lovely place. 
> 
> A flashback is in italics. The title is from “Ring” by Canyon City. The song is beautiful - go listen!

“ _Ugh_. L.A.” Dean says, for what you think might be the hundredth time since Cas and Crowley called to give you an update. “Of course Lucifer would pick this place.” 

“Dude. Give it a rest.” Sam says, rolling his eyes as he helps Dean load some more weapons into the trunk of the Impala.

“I’m just saying. It’s too hot there, there’s terrible traffic, and–”

“The land of botox and guys with skinny jeans.” You interrupts. “We know. We heard you the first twelve times.” 

Dean glares at you. “I’m sorry– am I _annoying_ you?” 

You smile, saccharine sweet. “Actually, yes!” 

Sam snorts. 

“Lucifer is there whether you like it or not.” You tell him. “He’s not going to call you and schedule a play date in some city you can both agree on. So, suck it up, buttercup. We’re heading to California.” 

Dean grumbles, but doesn’t say anything else as the three of you load up the rest of the supplies and your packs and get in the car, heading towards a gas station to fuel up before hitting the road.

After an hour on the road in relative silence - Sam has headphones in and you’re half-asleep – Dean pipes up. “I don’t like you being with us on this hunt.” 

You roll your eyes. “First of all, this is barely a hunt. Second, don’t start this bullshit. Please. For my sanity.” 

His eyes meet yours briefly in the rearview mirror. “It’s Lucifer. It could be dangerous. You weren’t around the first time, you don’t–”

“I _what?_ Don’t know how dangerous _the devil_ could be? Jesus, Dean.” You, say, quickly growing frustrated.

“I’m not–” Dean clamps his jaw shut, thinking. “I’m not trying to undermine you.” He says, clearly trying to be calm. “I’m just–” He sighs, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “We just got you back, kid.” 

Your face softens. You’d been apart from the Winchesters for almost two years before you finally ganked the demon who was after you. You kept insisting that Dean had enough going on with the Mark, and Amara, and everything else - they didn’t need you throwing your problems into the mix. 

You kept a low profile, but never truly stopped hunting or training. You were ready when he showed up, and you stopped him. That’s all that mattered. The next day, you were at the door of the Bunker, about two seconds away from falling apart.

_You knocked on the door a little louder, a little more desperate, grimacing at the way your hands were starting to shake. It was over. It was finally over. The demon who killed your family and had been hunting you for years was finally gone._

_Finally, the door was wrenched open, and Sam is there, staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost. You remember how you must look - half covered in blood, though only some of it yours._

_“Kid–” he says before you almost collapse, the relief at being at the one place where you’ve always felt at home too much. “Whoa, whoa, hold on.” He says, gripping your elbows and escorting you inside before he’s shouting for Dean.  
_

_“I did it.” You tell Sam, your voice shaky. “I got him, I got the bastard who–”  
_

_You stop when you notice Dean is there, your name leaving his lips on a breathless whisper. “What the fuck happened to you?” He says, and then he’s there, taking your weight from Sam easily. “Are you hurt? Where–”_

_“I’m fine. I think. I just–” You say, your hands shaking uncontrollably now. “I’m going into shock, I think.” You try to stay calm. “I killed him. I killed the guy– he got a few swings in first.”  
_

_“Jesus.” Dean mutters. “Come on.”  
_

_You don’t remember much after that, except Dean’s comforting words and Sam helping to stitch up the inch long gash on your forehead. The adrenaline pumping through your body wore off quickly, and you were asleep before you could thank them, or tell them more about what happened._

That was three months ago, and you’re still trying to get back into the swing of things. You feel like your life’s mission - taking out the monster that killed your family - is over, and you don’t know how to fill the void. That’s why you stick with Sam and Dean, taking on whatever Big Bad they’re after this time. You just never imagined it would be the most evil one of them all. 

The rest of the drive goes by in relative silence. Dean complains about L.A. some more to Sam, and you try not to laugh when you realize Sam isn’t listening to a word his brother is saying. 

When you get to the motel, you’re surprised at how clean it is, but you know better than to take a clean bed for granted. The three of you freshen up a bit and then head over to meet Castiel. 

“You’re hurt.” Cas says immediately when he sees you, and you startle. 

“No, I’m okay, Cas.” 

He stares at you in suspicion. “Not physically.” He says, and you want to roll your eyes because now Sam and Dean are looking at you like you’ve been lying to them, and you hate it. 

“Thanks, Cas.” You mutter, but squeeze his shoulder when you pass him. 

You’re fine, really. You just– you have nightmares sometimes still, and you’ve been sort of wrestling with an existential crisis ever since you came back to the Bunker. It’s nothing you can’t handle.

It turns out that every lead you think you have on Lucifer is a dead end. No one from Vince Vicente’s team wants to talk to you, and if they do, they don’t want to help. It’s frustrating, and you can tell the guys are fed up too. 

You get back to the motel, and Dean’s complaining about the overall condition of L.A. again, so you tell them not to wait up for you and head to the bar down the road. 

Instantly you can tell this isn’t really your type of place - the music is too electronic for your tastes and the drinks all have cutesy names - but it’s better than nothing. You order the closest thing to a jack and coke that they have, and pick a barstool at the opposite end of the bar from what looks like a group of frat boys. 

“This place is a nightmare.” You mutter. You finish your drink slowly, scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, trying to relax. A shadow appears over you, and you look up, your jaw dropping when you see Dean there, looking nothing like how he did when you left the motel.

He’s got a black v-neck shirt on, his black sunglasses hanging on the collar. A black leather jacket you’ve never seen before is over top of that, and– _god_ , the man has black jeans on. Not quite skinny jeans, but definitely _different_. 

“Hello?” He waves his hand in front of your face.

“What? What are you doing here?” You sputter, setting your drink on the bar, trying and failing not to stare at the line of his throat now exposed by the cut of his shirt.

“We got an in with the PR lady for Vince. We have to go.” 

“Tell me why you’re dressed like the very type of guy you spent the better part of two hours complaining about?” 

Dean huffs. “Can we talk about it on the way? Kiddo, the fuckin’ devil isn’t going to wait around. We gotta move.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, staring at the rest of your drink longingly. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

You leave with Dean, wondering why he’s got his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out. You don’t react though, content with the way the heat from his hand is seeping through your shirt.

_Fuckin’ L.A.._

.

.

.

The whole thing goes wrong, because of _course_ it does. The three of you manage to save an entire room of people while Cas and Crowley distract Lucifer, but then he smokes out before you can do anything about it, leaving you with more worries.

Dean calls it a win, and Sam doesn’t, and you spend the rest of the night in a tense silence. You hate cases like this. There’s so much at stake here, and so much unknown. Lucifer is doing what he’s doing for no apparent reason, and that’s more terrifying to you than knowing he’s got some kind of biblical plan.

Sam pleads exhaustion and collapses in bed after only an hour back in the room, and Dean suggests you head to the bar to blow off some steam before going to bed. 

You agree, only because you have nothing else to do, and Dean walks close with you towards the dimly lit building, his hand brushing yours every so often. When you get inside, there’s more frat guys there, and Dean is rolling his eyes before you can even make a joke. You laugh anyway, and he tries not to smile at you.

You order two beers and meet him at a table in the corner, watching as he pulls his phone out, staring at the screen in concentration.

“Anything good?” You ask, and he grins.

“Just kicking my Mom’s ass in Words With Friends.” He says proudly, and you smile softly at him. 

“Things are getting better, right?” 

He takes a long pull of his beer. “As good as they can be, I guess.” 

“She’ll come back, Dean.” You tell him, trying to drag your eyes away from the stubble on his jaw as he looks over at you, his profile illuminated by the lights in the bar.

“Yeah.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket. “How are you doing, kid? And don’t bullshit me.” He says, pointing at you. 

You groan. “I’m _fine_.” 

“I was going to say the same thing.” A new voice interrupts, and you look up, confused at the interruption, seeing one of the guys from the bar standing next to your table, grinning at you.

“Yikes.” You mutter under your breath, and Dean snorts across the table at you, putting on an innocent look when you glare at him. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” The new guy asks, and you gotta say - he’s got some nerve asking you to have a drink when Dean is sitting right there, even if he has no idea that you and Dean are just friends. 

“I’m good.” You tell him, holding up your beer. “Thanks, though.” 

“C’mon. One drink?” 

“Dude.” Dean says, laughing. “She said she’s good.” His tone is pleasant, but his face is hard. 

Luckily, the guy gives up, but that _look_ stays on Dean’s face even after you both have another beer and start yawning. 

“We should get back.” He says tersely, and you nod in agreement, giving him a confused look as he throws a few bills down on the table. 

“I could have covered mine.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“Hey.” You say after you get outside, getting his attention by grabbing his arm. “What’s your problem?” 

“Nothing.” 

“You’re the worst liar.” 

He scoffs, his hands going to his hips. “I don’t have a _problem_. I just– I hate it here.” He runs a hand through his hair. “The air is too _thick_ and the bars are too _loud_ and that fuckin’ guy with his _jeans–”_

You lose it at the last one, throwing your head back as you laugh, laughing even harder when you see Dean’s incredulous face. “You hate his _jeans_?! Dean, have you looked in a mirror?” 

His eyes flash. “This is for a _case_!” 

“God. You’re too much, Winchester.” 

His face softens as he watches you wipe tears of mirth from the corners of your eyes, and he sighs. “Yeah, laugh it up.” His arm goes around your shoulder as he starts to lead you down the street, and you lean into him, just a bit. 

“You know, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.” He says, his voice gruff. “I know what you’re going through.” 

You stop him before you get back to the motel. “Things are– they’re not the best, right now.” You tell him, letting out a sharp breath. “I have nightmares. Not always, but– most nights.” 

He frowns, and you wonder if he knows he’s reaching for you with one hand before he lets it drop at his side. 

“I’m okay, though, really. I’m– being with you guys again is good. It’s making me better.” 

“That was a long two years, kid.” He says, his voice rough and gravelly. 

Your eyes meet his and you see his understanding there, but also something else. It makes you shudder. “Yeah.” You croak. “Yeah it was.” 

He’s close now. Closer than you can remember him being to you in a long time. “Let’s not do that again.” He murmurs, his eyes on your lips.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” 

“Good.” He says, his voice so quiet you can barely hear it, and then he’s kissing you. It’s like you’ve always imagined it, but better. He takes control and holds you to him as he kisses you with a kind of desperation you thought was only saved for books and movies, and you melt into him. 

“For the record,” you say when you break apart, both of you breathless. “I like the outfit.” 

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Don’t get your hopes up about me keeping it.”

You laugh, and he kisses you again, and you feel that void inside of you start to seal itself back up again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr!](http://sunlightdances.tumblr.com)


End file.
